The Corporation
by The-Doctors-Song
Summary: In which Rachel is not what she seems, death and blood surround her, her life sucks and she's a psychopath in the words of Noah Puckerman . Shelby discovers her daughter actually, kind of really does need a mother,that guy that took over as the coach of VA is actually quite a protective man and her dads are never home. That's the life of an assassin I suppose.


**A/N: I know, I probably shouldn't be starting another story, but I had this idea, and i just had to do it. I'm sorry... Well, not really, but whatever. Um, it's really, very AU. It's set after Season One, so yes, all of that happened. I made some changes, which are very obvious, I think. But some might not be. Season three doesn't exist in this one, and yes, Shelby will be making a huge contribution to this story. Quinn, Santana, Brittany, Puck, Artie and Blaine will also be relatively important characters, as are Sunshine and that guy that took over as coach. I'm not sure if i got his name right, but what ever. Uhm... Schyler is of my own creation, she's a major player in this, and also, Rachel's dad's are quite a bit bastardly in this so... yeah. The rating is due to blood, and gore, and swearing, and stuff. Not sure on a pairing for Rachel, particularly as I literally only just wrote this like, less than an hour ago, at midnight (right now) while watching the Olympics (GO AUSSIE!) so... I'm thinking maybe Puckleberry, or Faberry, but I'm not quite decided. feel free to make suggestions, there's also a possibility for Rachel/OC, which will probably end up in the story anyway, but maybe as a past boyfriend or something. Anyway,**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, I love Idina, And Schyler is mine. Just sayyin'**

**Hope you like it.**

**Chapter One**

~.~

Life is an uncertainty. You can't predict what will happen; when it will happen. It's the exact same with death. They complement each other. How ironic.

In my line of work; in what I do, Life and Death are the equivalent to walking on a tightrope. One wrong move and everything's over. You're done.

No one knows who I really am. To the outside world, I'm Rachel Berry. The girl with two dads, a mom who doesn't want me, no friends and failed relationships. The girl who dreams of Broadway and her name in lights.

They don't know a thing about me.

At night, I leave an always empty house, the note from my dad's telling me about their 'unplanned' business trip still sitting on the kitchen bench. The front door is never opened; I always shimmy down the tree outside my window. If I used the front door, Mrs Pligher would notice. Damn nosy neighbours.

I'm prowling downtown Lima Heights by midnight. The shadows hide my form and I always pass the group of homeless teens sitting on the corner of the broken street, sharing a bottle of Vodka and throwing rocks at the unfortunate car parked across from them. Sneaking past a dirty cop handing money to the local druggie (because even though he's dirty, I'm still a kid, and he cares about kids), I slip in to the alley beside a rundown coat factory.

The boss is usually leaning against a wall, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth and a folder clutched in his right hand. There's never any words. Just a nod in recognition, him handing one folder over, only for me to replace it with one with a large red cross drawn over the top. I disappear in to the shadows again while he leaves, the folder already flipped open and a picture seen under the shady light from a room above.

By the next time we meet, the folder's crossed over too, and there's a new cross in a graveyard.

Yeah… I'm Rachel Berry… And I'm an assassin.

Of course, every great assassin has a great codename. Mine's Astrid. There's a whole backstory to the name, but I'm not going to get in to that now.

I'm sure most of you are wondering just what made me, a small town girl with everything she could ever want, into a trained and lethal killer.

Simple… I'm not that girl.

My dads were never around. For the first few years of my life, they were doting parents, with smiles and laughter and everything in between. Then, when I was around six or something, the novelty wore off. Work piled up, and they stayed back later. I was basically raised by a nanny before I was twelve… Then I was raised by myself. They started taking extending business trips and holidays when I was eight. They'd call every now and then, before they realised they didn't need to keep checking up on me.

When I was eleven, I met a girl. She was a few years older than me. Eighteen years old, and she quickly became my best friend. Schyler Lawson was my mentor. She introduced me to the Corporation.

When I turned thirteen, she fully incorporated me. I was a qualified killer. Even had a license to kill and everything. My first take-down, I was sick for the two days following. Schyler sat with me, her arm around my shoulders as I heaved in to the toilet.

That's why I'm vegan. I see enough blood and gore as it is… I don't need to eat it too.

I learned to separate Astrid from Rachel. Like I had MPD. One version of me versus another. Rachel by day, Astrid by night.

It helped stop the disgust I felt.

You'd think a place as small as Lima, or Ohio at all, would have little to no crimes worth an assassin's visit.

You'd be wrong. Small towns are prime for underground activities. Slave labourers, terrorist cells, mafia hide outs… You name it, it's found in a small town like Lima.

And why are assassins looking at kids to do their dirty work?

Everyone trusts a kid.

It's like an inbuilt sense. A child shows up at your doorstep. They say a few rightfully chosen words and you invite them in. You turn to grab the phone, about to hand it over so they can call their parents when BAM!

Hi there Death, I'm a dirty criminal, I like your scythe and hood.

As we get older, we advance through ranks. I'm only seventeen, so I'm not ready for international jobs yet.

Regardless… There's a reason why I'm telling you this. One day you're going to find what I've written. You'll be horrified with the thought of a thirteen year old girl taking the life of a drug lord. You'll be terrified of the Corporation, and think 'Maybe they've recruited someone I know'…

(Because trust me… They probably have)

… You'll be afraid, whether for me, or for those around me. Then you'll be relieved. Because by the time anyone reads this, the Corporation will be gone, the Underground will be demolished, and I will be dead.

Happy reading.

~.~

Regionals.

The word alone caused a flurry of activity and several squeals of anticipation. New Directions were at Regionals once again, and this time they were going to win.

Last year they'd lost to Vocal Adrenaline. This year they weren't going to let that happen again.

The bus was quiet. Not the quiet that made you want to tear your hair out or cough loudly just to break the awkward tension. It was a quiet that had a background noise of nervous humming, the tapping of someone's foot on the floor of the bus and hushed whispers about the upcoming show.

They turned a corner where the bus slowed to a stop. The whispers died as they caught sight of a second bus. Smoke pilfered from the front, and quite a lot of students stood by the curb. William Shuester stood from his seat, leaning forward to peer outside the front windshield.

"Vocal Adrenaline." He said, confusion and a small amount of amusement dripping in his words.

"Let's just keep going!"

"Yeah! Leave 'em!"

"Then we'll definitely win!"

Rachel stood from her seat, turning to her fellow team mates with her hands on her hips.

"We'll win anyway. But we certainly don't want to win just because they couldn't make it to the competition. Then what are we going to do? We were supposed to win by beating them out, them sitting in their seats with their jaws hanging open as we wow the audience and the judges. We should help them. Even if it's just so that we can lord it over them later on."

Normally, any long winded speech Rachel made would be replied with eye rolls and scoffing. This time, there was a quiet contemplation. She watched as no one stood to rebuke her, yet no one stood to help first. Huffing, she turned on her heel and walked down the steps.

Vocal Adrenaline had, of course, noticed the bus the moment it turned the corner. As soon as they realized who was on it, they turned their attention back to the smoking bus with glares and groans. They'd never help them.

So they were surprised when the tiny lead singer hopped out of the bus, strolling over to them with an almost bored expression.

"Blew a tire or over-heated the engine?"

They stared at her, some openly gaping, others scowling. Their own female lead, Sunshine, bit her lip and looked at Rachel wearily. This was, of course, due to Rachel having sent her to a crack house at the start of the year, and despite the fact Rachel had said it wasn't active, Sunshine still wasn't too keen on Rachel Berry.

Rachel, of course, had actually sent her there on accident. She'd been thinking about her assignment late last night and the address just came tumbling from her mouth.

She berated herself countless times after Sunshine came back the next morning shaken.

Dustin Goolsby, the new coach of Vocal Adrenaline, looked the petite brunette up and down. To him, she seemed like she genuinely wanted to help. But show choir (contrary to popular belief and expectations) was a cut throat competition. He knew if the situations had been reversed, he would have just driven past them laughing.

"Over-heated engine" He finally said, cocking his head back to gesture to the front of the bus, where the driver was elbow deep in the hood.

Rachel nodded, looking back at the bus and narrowing her eyes as she counted seats.

"You all won't fit on our bus. Move over." She ordered, pushing past Dustin and pulling the driver out.

She glared at the piece of metal in his hand, yanking it from his grip.

"Idiot. You actually, kind of need that." She huffed.

Stepping up, she leant forward and began to tinker with the engine. Vocal Adrenaline, coach and all, watched in odd fascination as she swore and metal clashed against metal. Pulling away five minutes later, grease smeared across her forehead and her hands coated in black, she stepped away from the bus. Dustin looked from the girl, to the New Direction's bus, were several heads poked out of the door watching them with curiosity, and admittedly deserved animosity.

Rachel sidled past Dustin, climbing the steps of the bus, turned the key, and smiled in satisfaction as the engine roared to life. Hopping down form the steps, she dusted her hands and grimaced as it just smeared the black around instead of off.

"There. Seriously, for a bus driver, you know nothing about cars." And with that, she walked away, muttering about needing a shower and sanitiser.

Vocal Adrenaline continued to stand outside watching until their bus started up again and they drove past.

"That was… odd."

Dustin nodded at one of the Seniors, shaking his head before ordering them on the bus before he made them walk.

Rachel, for her part, simply walked back on the bus, sat in her seat, pulled her sweater over her head and begun to wipe the grease from her hands. The bus was silent, this silence a different one compared to the previous.

No one spoke until they got to the competition building.

Rachel had questioned whether her behaviour had seemed different. She supposed, or hoped, that Vocal Adrenaline would either never notice, or simply not care.

That wasn't the case.

As soon as they were dressed, New Directions made their way in to the foyer. For some unknown reason, this year there was a rehearsal for Regionals. Supposedly it was because of an incident that happened last year, where the stage was severely under-described, and several clubs had underestimated the stage space.

There were quite a few injuries of the falling off stage type.

Not ten minutes later, Vocal Adrenaline joined New Directions and one other club.

"Why?"

Rachel looked up at Sunshine, her phone forgotten in her hand.

"What?"

Sunshine sighed, placing one hand on her hip and looking behind her at her team. Rachel followed her gaze, understanding dawning on her face. She was designated to approach her.

It was something her own glee club would have done. They certainly wouldn't have had a problem with throwing her in to the lion's den.

"Why did you help us?"

Rachel shrugged, looking down at her phone quickly before looking back up.

"Wouldn't have been much of a competition if you didn't make it on time. Plus… I wanted to see your faces when you lost."

Sunshine frowned, despite the small smile on Rachel's face.

"What is up with you? You're… Different."

Rachel's smile disappeared, her expression turning stony before she stood.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Why don't you run along, back to your group of over-worked, emotionless robots."

This time, Rachel noticed her teammates. They were staring at her. Even they picked up on the un-Rachel-ness of that statement.

That was the problem. That wasn't a Rachel thing to say.

That was an Astrid thing to say.

Rachel inwardly panicked. Her dark nature only turned up when she felt threatened, like she was unsafe, like something was wrong or about to happen.

Was she threatened? Was she unsafe? Was something wrong, or something about to happen?

She couldn't remember anything striking her as particular assassin worthy. It's show choir for god's sake. She glanced around the room quickly, her eyes scanning over every person in the hopes she wouldn't recognise anyone.

Those hopes were dashed. Of course, not in the way she'd expected.

Because she did recognise someone. Two someone's actually.

A woman… And a baby.

Shelby and Beth.

Just great.

Her eyes connected with Shelby's, cold brown meeting concerned green. She sighed, bringing one hand up to massage her temple while she closed her eyes tightly. She knew when the rest of the group noticed Shelby. She could hear Puck and Quinn's inhaled breath, Santana's muttered 'Fuck!', and Mercedes' 'This isn't going to go down well'.

Dustin had obviously noticed as well, because he was by Sunshine's side as soon as Rachel opened her eyes.

"She's here to support VA. As their previous coach, I thought it would be nice if she saw what they could do because of her, without her there."

Rachel stared at him, confused. Why did he tell her that?

Dustin, for some unknown reason, felt like he ought to clarify that for the small teen. He couldn't possibly care for her right? That was stupid.

Rachel sighed, turning to look back to Shelby and jumping back in shock. Shelby, in the time it had taken Rachel to close and then open her eyes, had moved from one end of the foyer to the other, and was now standing just a few feet away from her. Beth was cradled in her arms, the pram standing forgotten where she'd previously been sitting.

"Hi."

Rachel glared at the older version of herself. 'Hi'? That's all she got? Really?

Rachel scoffed, turning and flicking her hair over her shoulder. She still felt uneasy.

She'd thought, maybe, the reason she'd felt so threatened before was because Shelby had been watching not only her former team, but also Rachel herself.

But that wasn't it. She was being watched. That she knew. She could feel it in her bones. But she couldn't see anyone who wasn't ND, VA or a Corcoran that was looking at her.

She caught sight of Shelby opening her mouth in the corner of her vision, but luckily the official called them in to the empty auditorium before Shelby had a chance to speak. Rachel, in her obvious discomfort at so many people in her personal space, had rushed straight to the door and disappeared through the arc. New Direction, Vocal Adrenaline, Shelby Corcoran and baby Beth watching as she did so.

In a moment of pure understanding and for once not a hint of aggressive competition, all three parties nodded at each.

Yes, something was up with the lead singer. No, they didn't think she was going to tell them.

So they split, New Directions walking down the aisle to where they noticed Rachel was sitting, Vocal Adrenaline choosing to sit on the opposite side to them, with Shelby, Beth and Dustin sitting behind them. The other two clubs filed in, but they have no relevance to the story.

It was half-way through the Moonlighters second song when the auditorium doors slammed open. Everyone, orchestra included, turned as one, staring at a woman standing in the doorway with a gun strapped to her leg and bleeding from her chest.

"Schyler!"

Yet again, as one, the entire group turned to stare at the now running lead singer of New Directions. Rachel skidded to a halt, wrapping her arms around Schyler and dragging her back to her seat. Sitting her down, Rachel grabbed the gun from its holster, checked it's ammunition, flicked the safety off then on, and held it in her left hand pointing towards the door as her right hand ran over the blonde woman's chest.

"The hell Sky?"

Schyler Lawson was a rather tall twenty-five year old. Her white-blonde hair was cut to just above her shoulder, ragged edges giving her a dangerous look. This is to be expected of someone who carries a gun on their leg. She was breathing heavily, the blood dripping through Rachel's fingers as the younger brunette applied pressure, trying to stop the bleeding.

Neither girl took notice of their audience, their eyes wide, some with gaping mouths and hands gripping their arm rests. New Directions, the closest to the bleeding woman, stared in astonishment as Rachel, the same Rachel who valued all life and annoyed the hell out of them all, tore the blonde's shirt, wrapped the shredded scrap around her shoulder and tied a knot, all while still aiming the gun at the door. Dustin Goolsby watched Rachel with interest, and somewhat shocked astonishment. The small girls dress had lowered slightly, her shoulder now exposed to show an intricate tattoo. The exact same tattoo that resides on the back of his neck. That was why he was so protective of the girl. She was of the Corporation. Shelby, Beth clung to her chest, watched wide eyes as her daughter re loaded the gun. How the hell did she know how to handle a gun? She was confused, because as far as she remembered, Leroy Berry despised weaponry, and Hiram Berry's brother was killed in a mugging, so he didn't tolerate guns at all.

"We gotta go Astrid. Fifer's terminated."

Rachel, and unnoticed by all, Dustin's eyes widened. Fifer was Head of Ohio. He dealt with all the agents in Ohio territory. He was the one Rachel met in an alley with a smoke and a folder.

"Shit!"

For most, that was the last thing they heard Rachel Berry mutter. The curse coming from such a small usually anal perfection girl shocked them. It shocked all of them actually. Rachel heaved Schyler up, throwing her arm over her shoulder and rushing forward, not even saying goodbye to her team. Dustin, on the confusion and shock of the audience, had managed to sneak away from his seat and creep through a side door. He met the two girls in the foyer, holding his hand up and reciting something that made them stop.

"In the eyes of Death, we are Life. In the eyes of Life, we are Death's Reapers."

They looked at each other, Rachel slipping her hand in to the back of Schyler's jeans and pulling out a second hand gun. Tossing it to Dustin, they continued out the door and into a black Range Rover that they hotwired. It was only once they were out of the car park that Rachel and Dustin realized.

They'd taken Shelby's car.

The baby seat should have deterred them, no?

In the auditorium, pandemonium had escaped. Many were sobbing. After all, a heavily bleeding, gun wielding woman storming into ones rehearsal didn't exactly occur every day. Others were staring at each other in shock. And only a few had the decent thought to slip from their chairs and go after the two, and now realizing three, people that had disappeared through the back entrance doors. They would, unfortunately, miss seeing Shelby's black Range Rover turning the corner of the parking lot. In their shock, confusion, and concern, the only thing that was said ended up being completely irrelevant.

"They took my car."

**A/N: So... It was probably a little unrealistic, but whatever, its FanFiction, you want realistic go outside and ride a bike or something. Review it, tell me if i should continue. Due to a massive amount of backing up in my other stories, if i don't get a relatively good response to this I'll probably just discontinue it, or give it up for adoption or whatever. I don't want to waste my time with something no one is interested in. Awesome, okay... Laters.**


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